


a dream of memory

by sketchedsilmaril



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Rebels, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Ahsoka Tano-centric, Character Study, Gen, Mild Siege of Mandalore spoilers, The World Between Worlds (Star Wars), it's VISION TIME, it's all about the SIBLING RELATIONSHIP, kaesoka and anidala are part of the story but not the main focus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:34:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23672398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sketchedsilmaril/pseuds/sketchedsilmaril
Summary: Following her duel with Vader, Ahsoka enters the Sith Temple in search of answers, answers of how her Master could have fallen so far. The temple acquiesces to her wish, but the truth is a heavy burden. Forced to confront her past and her fears in a series of visions that blur the lines between reality and fantasy, Ahsoka gets more than what she bargained for.
Relationships: Anakin Skywalker & Ahsoka Tano, Kaeden Larte/Ahsoka Tano, Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 76
Kudos: 220





	1. prologue.

**Author's Note:**

> I am SUPER excited to share this fic—I've been working on this for a loooong time, and have finally gotten it to a point where it's ready to post. It really came out of a desire to explore "what the fuck did Ahsoka do in the sith temple", dave filoni's topps trading cards, internally yelling about ahsoka and anakin's relationship, and wanting ahsoka to confront her baggage.
> 
> The prologue is short, but the rest of the story is m e a t y and already completed so I'll update a timely fashion—enjoy!

Her arm still twinged like a bantha bite, despite the bacta spray she always carried with her.

“To defeat your enemy, you have to understand them.”

She had said those very words to Ezra just a few hours ago, but after a battling three different Sith lords one after another, a world-hopping adventure with an mysteriously older Ezra, and finding herself in the now deserted ruins of the Sith temple on Malachor, it felt more like several lifetimes ago. Kriff, she’d had bad days before, but this one had to rank among the worst.

And now, she was doing something that she was quite sure would make her day even worse.

Ahsoka ran her fingers along the wall of the dark corridor as she continued to step down, down, down, deeper into the gaping maw of the ruined Sith temple, careful to avoid touching any runes carved into the walls. Morai flitted about above her, hooting dolefully.

“I don’t know where I’m going either,” Ahsoka told the bird, “But I’ll know when I get there.”

It was a feeling that drove her, a feeling she’d had ever since she sensed Darth Vader ( _Anakin_ ) above Lothal. It had only grown stronger since then, nudging and guiding her onto a path that seemed to inevitably lead back to her old master. Even now, the feeling burned in her heart, like the way Anakin’s yellow eye had burned, lit with the eerie glow of his ruined mask. She stopped, guilt and grief threatening to wash over her completely.

She knew she’d denied it all along. Deep down, she had already known since the siege of Lothal, and after her vision, it seemed all but certain. But she had clung to some desperate hope that she was mistaken, that she had misinterpreted her visions, her instincts. When she climbed to the top of the temple, drawing up to her full height as Vader turned to face her—something crumbled inside her. When the cold and fear and anger and hate was laid bare right before her eyes, she couldn’t admit it to herself. That the black, twisted monster before her was the same person that had trained her, raised her, and loved her like family—that the half-droid half-human wreck was a corruption of her cherished memories of her older brother.

And when she was faced with the irrevocable truth of Vader’s identity, all she could think was:

 _Why_?

A soft splash sounded as Ahsoka stepped into a large chamber, icy cold water chilling her feet. Ahsoka shivered. She waded out into the center until the water reached her waist. She was here.

_I want the truth._

_The truth?_ The temple rumbled with a musing hum, and smoke curled around her. _There are many truths in this world, little Jedi._

_I am no Jedi._

Faint amusement, mixed with—intrigue.

_There are many truths in this world—right?_

A thoughtful, waiting silence pressed down upon her. 

She considered, tilting back her head, watching the dust dance in the thin light streaming through the still crumbling cracks of the temple. After so many years, she was used to half-truths and secrets, filtered through like the light worming its way into the temple. Certainty was an illusion. The illusion of family, the illusion of safety, of security, of the faith in one’s friends. Ignorance, yet knowledge, she thought wryly.

She closed her eyes, allowing her mind to wander down into the past. _Then_ , she thought, I _want to know how a good man falls._

The world held its breath, and then—

_Careful of what you find._

She inhaled sharply, and—


	2. beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> previously: 
> 
> _Then, she thought, I want to know how a good man falls._
> 
> _The world held its breath, and then—_
> 
> _Careful of what you find._  
>    
> _She inhaled sharply, and—_

—and she was scared. Her hand was being gripped so hard that it hurt. She didn’t like the female alien holding her hand very much.

Ahsoka had never seen anyone other than togrutas, except for in a few picture holobooks she liked to flip through with her mother. The sleekly furred alien had delicate features with large, slanted eyes. Her voice had been soft and smooth, reassuring and sweet, as she spoke with her parents, spinning her words on and on that when Ahsoka tried to listen in, she got very tired very quickly.

Ahsoka knew her parents liked this person. She knew her village liked this person. She could tell by the awestruck and excited hum of her people, by the wide-eyed looks on her parents’ faces as the stranger spoke of _jedi_ and _the force_ and _I am jedi master latrans_ —words that Ahsoka had never heard before. But despite the tall grace and poise of this stranger, Ahsoka had cried and struggled as Latrans had gently lifted her from her parents’ arms, twisting around to reach back at them. Latrans was beautiful, but there was just something else, something ugly and rotten underneath, something Ahsoka could not make her parents understand, something she tried to say but couldn’t as she shouted _no no no bad._

Wrongness. Wrongness like when she knew to pull her older brother away from a serpent hidden in the grass. Wrongness like the time she knew Shaskut would not come back from her akul hunt days before the warriors finally returned bearing the warrior’s cold body.

She knew, deep down in a way she couldn’t explain, that if this stranger took away from her home, she would be meet the same fate as Shaskut—or worse.

Latrans now pulled at Ahsoka again, trying to usher her down the main village path. Ahsoka dug her heels in again, and though she didn’t know how, she could feel unease begin to grow amongst her watching kin.

In that moment, a deep, measured voice sounded from behind them. “What appears to be the problem here?”

Latrans whipped around, her presence flaring with panic. The newcomer held up his hand, Latrans cried out, and Ahsoka felt a strong _tug_ as Latrans was ripped away from her. She scrambled to her feet and threw herself at her mother, the other villagers scattering in alarm. Through her mother’s arms, Ahsoka saw Latrans pull out a blaster, shooting at the man only to be deflected by a blinding blue blade. She screamed out in frustration, but the man held out his hand once again, and Latrans flew into a wall and crumpled, unconscious.

Things happened quickly after Latrans was subdued. For a while, the stranger was deep in conversation with her father and the village elders, before they allowed him to pass and approach Ahsoka.

He knelt down, a safe distance from her, and held out his hand to her. “Hello, little one. My name is Plo Koon, a Knight of the Jedi Order.”

Her mother tightened her grip around Ahsoka, but she wriggled out of her mother’s arms and walked towards the man, studying his face closely.

Plo Koon looked frightening with none of the sinuous grace of Latrans. His eyes were shielded with black covers, his head was strangely shaped, lumpy and wrinkled, the hand he extended towards her was clawed and sharp, and his voice was loud and booming. Yet Ahsoka knew instinctively he was nothing like Latrans. She could trust this man and the tranquil, welcoming aura that emanated from him.

She reached out with her small, chubby hand, took his hand gently, and smiled. “’Soka.”

“ _Koh-to-yah_ , Ahsoka. It is an honor to meet you.” A mutter of relief rippled among the onlookers, and her mother relaxed behind her.

He stood up, and more quiet conversations happened between her parents and Plo Koon. After a bit, her mother, her _ma’ta_ felt sad, so Ahsoka tottered closer and held her hand tightly.

“You must understand,” Plo Koon rumbled, “If Ahsoka comes with me, your paths may never cross again.”

Her _ma’ta_ lifted her eyes and looked upon Plo Koon steadily, clearly. “Master Jedi. I had a dream the night before Latrans came. The dream showed me a great darkness that blackened our grasses, and in that darkness my little ‘Soka became an akul, larger than any akul in our legends. I was scared—I thought it meant my little ‘Soka would become a monster, a destroyer, a devourer of the weak. Latrans conjured clouds into my eyes. I thought I had to give her up, to protect our village and little ‘Soka from this terrible fate. But I see now I did not understand the message that the gods sent me.”

“Train her, Master Jedi. Train her so that she may become an akul. An akul strong enough to weather all the darkness that may come.”

The Jedi was quiet, contemplative. He spoke again, slowly and carefully: “The will of the Force is strong, but we shape it with our choices. Are you certain that this is yours?”

Ahsoka saw _ma’ta_ choke back a sob. “Yes,” she said in a strangled sigh, “Yes, but—oh, please love her—she can be hard to put to bed so you shouldn’t hold it against her—she cannot sleep unless you’ve told her a story—she likes tagil honey in the morning—she is only used to _little ‘Soka_ and not _Ahsoka_ yet—” Her voice cut off as she shuddered with another sob.

Plo Koon bowed his head solemnly. “I promise, Lady Tano. We shall take care of her.”

Her mother reached out and gently ran her finger down Ahsoka’s face, her eyes filled with tears. Leaning in, she gathered Ahsoka into her warm embrace and pressed her lips to her forehead, whispering, “My little ‘Soka. Be good, my love. And be brave, you must be so brave.”

“Remember—we will always love you.”

Ahsoka gazed up at her ma’ta, but strangely, all the words her mother had spoken just then and before were beginning to slip away. They floated like smoke, formless shapes and hues.

As Plo Koon carried Ahsoka away, she looked back, once. She saw her _ma’ta_ and _pa’ta_ , her siblings, faces filled with sorrow and pride as they waved and called goodbye. Their faces began to shiver and blur as the distance grew. Then, smears of burnt ochre, arms waving like grass. Their voices grew thin and quiet. And finally, she saw them fade away into the warm wind, as if they had never been there.

Ahsoka turned away, and looked forward.

.

.

.

.

.

When she opened her eyes again, she was greeted with the sight of a shadow blocking the bright sun above her.

“Come on Snips,” it said, “Up and at it. Let’s try it again.”

Ahsoka groaned. Her whole body ached. “Don’t you have better things to do than bullying your padawan?” she grumbled as she clambered back to her feet. “Like bother Master Kenobi or something?”

“Sure,” Anakin replied back easily, a smirk flickering across his face, “But where’s the fun in that?”

Ahsoka clambered to her feet. Her arms and legs stung with the phantom strikes of Anakin’s practice saber, and her brow was dripping with sweat. “I’m glad you find my pain funny,” grumbled Ahsoka.

Anakin grinned as they began circling each other again. “All part of the learning, my young padawan.”

The sun reflected brightly off the pale surroundings of the Temple. A gaggle of onlookers had gathered around the edges—younglings, padawans, and even a few knights, all curious to catch a glimpse of the newest master-apprentice pairing.

_That’s Skywalker’s new apprentice._

_Can’t believe he got one so soon._

_You know what they’re saying about the war—they’re putting out padawans before they’re ready._

Ahsoka adjusted her grip on her saber and took a deep breath. They’d only gotten planet-side a week ago after their breakneck adventures on Christophsis, Teth and Tatooine, and of course, the gossip had already spread like wildfire throughout the Temple about Anakin Skywalker and his newly minted apprentice. Anakin, in a show of quiet sensitivity that had surprised Ahsoka, had been reserving private training rooms for them as much as possible and kept the bumpy origin of their budding partnership rather vague when asked. But the Temple was the Temple after all—every secret got around _eventually_. Just focus on the fight, she told herself.

_Aw, why couldn’t I have gotten Master Skywalker!_

_I thought they’d give him someone a bit… more. She wasn’t even top of her initiate class._

_Late bloomer, maybe?_

_He didn’t even pick her, I heard. She was_ assigned _to him._

A well-meaning but curious initiate had asked about that the other day in front of Anakin, and despite the reassuring weight of his hand on her shoulder, she hadn’t been able to stop the hot flush across her face. She _was_ ready to be a padawan, and Anakin Skywalker’s to boot. Still, the nagging feeling in her stomach lingered—she had watched most of her class, and some even younger than her, be chosen by their masters while she had stayed behind. _Impulsive_ and _difficult_ is what she knew others said about her, and despite what Anakin had said to reassure her on Teth, a small part of her wondered if she really _was_ worth it.

Well, she’d show them by kicking the _kark_ out of Anakin.

Ahsoka grit her teeth and leapt at Anakin. They danced, slashing and parrying, sabers clashing and whirling through the air. Her muscles burned and protested with every strike, and the hilt of her saber felt slippery in her hands. _Didn’t even pick her_. _Didn’t even pick her_. The words echoed through her head, and she swung her blade _hard_ at Anakin’s head.

Blue met green as the blades ground against each other. “ _Focus,_ Snips,” Anakin said.

“I _am_!”

She could feel herself losing ground, dust flying around her feet as Anakin pressed her back. Frustration clawed up her throat and she lunged forward with one last desperate thrust. Everything happened in the blink of an eye. Anakin’s lightsaber came up smoothly to block as his other hand clamped down on her wrist and squeezed, _hard_. A spike of pain, and her lightsaber was falling out of her grip as a foot came out, neatly sweeping her own feet out from under.

In an instant, Ahsoka was on the ground again, lying flat on her back. Great, she thought bitterly.

“Nice try,” Anakin said from somewhere above her, “But I know you can do better.”

Someone off to the side snickered. To her horror, the beginnings of tears sprang to her eyes.

“Forget it, Master,” Ahsoka muttered, desperately blinking back her tears as she got up and made to leave, “I’ll never get it. I’m done for today.”

A mixture of bewilderment and panic crossed Anakin’s face. “Snips, it’s okay,” Anakin started to say. She ignored him and started walking towards the entrance to the inside of the Temple, the whispers of the crowd pressing down on her. “Ahsoka, wait!” he called after her. Shaking her head, her vision started to blur with tears, with—

with—

a murky darkness—

—she was in the crèche, awake, and she could hear the matron whispering to someone, to Master Plo—you must talk to her, she simply doesn’t behave herself—

Too rash—impulsive!

—Ahsoka, you must apply yourself. You’re not achieving the results you could be.

IknowIknowIknowiknowIknowI _know_

Voices echoed around her as the world spun, and she squeezed her eyes shut. They were wrapping around her, drilling into her, crawling inside her head—

A small creature, strangely familiar, crouched in front of her, eyes glinting menacingly as it tapped on its head. _It’s what goes on in **here** that’s hard_, it rasped.

_Ahsoka?_

“I’m sorry, I’m _sorry_ ,” she said. The terrified gasp of a girl as she tumbled off a cliff. Twin cries of children—no, twin suns blazed over a familiar desert. A clone with an orange helmet, reaching out with a shaking hand to clasp her own. A fiery sunset over Coruscant. A planet burned, as armored warriors fell from the sky, shot down like birds, only to hang in the air, suspended like gruesome stars, as they slowly spun in their last moments of life.

_Why did you leave?_

“I know, I _know_ , I should’ve tried harder,” she sobbed.

_I needed you, Ahsoka. You **failed** me. _

No! She cried out, stumbling back, and—

—and she was in the Temple hangar, hunched over the _Twilight_ ’s metal innards with Anakin, equal parts sulky and embarrassed over her outburst during their disastrous training session. He had approached her sometime after the session, a little hesitantly and uncertainly, but with a determination that she suspected was cemented after a talk with Obi-Wan.

“Ahsoka,” he said, gently nudging her as she angrily yanked aside a mess of wires and gears. “Can you feel it?”

“Feel _what_?”

“Here, I’ll show you.” He grasped her free hand, squeezing. “Close your eyes. Picture the ship. It’s metal, but it’s alive in its own way. A system of parts working together, just like us. Reach out with your senses and find your way through.”

She closed her eyes, opening her mind and stretching out, following first Anakin’s bright core presence, then the same-different feeling of his prosthetic hand, and she continued on, into the dark but thrumming twists and turns of the _Twilight._ She reached out even more, straining to find the knot of old machinery where the electrical currents of the Twilight had stuttered and halted, and— _there_.

“I found it!” she said excitedly. “That’s what we need to fix.”

A small smile curled the edge of Anakin’s lips. Ahsoka felt a burst of warmth at the subtle praise. As she began to work the damaged engine cell out of its place, it felt like something had clicked a little bit more in place somewhere within her, and the earlier embarrassment of the day seemed a little more distant now.

“Maybe you aren’t so bad at teaching after all, Master,” she teased.

He looked mock-affronted. “Hey! Was there any doubt at all?”

“Says the most reckless person I know,” she snarked, shoving him playfully. Turning back to the tangle of wires, she couldn’t help but feel a little thrill at the unimaginable thought that _the_ Anakin Skywalker was sitting next to her, grease-streaked and casual, patiently teaching her and bantering with her like—well, like a friend.

They worked in contented silence for a few moments, before Ahsoka spoke up again.

“I wish everything was like this.”

He shot a questioning glance at her. “What do you mean?”

“You know,” she said, gesturing in his direction absentmindedly. Anakin ducked as the wrench in her hand swung dangerously close to his head. “Watch it, Snips,” he muttered.

She ignored him, pondering her next words. “I mean… it’d be nice if everything was as easy as this. Just replacing a few shorted-out wires in an old junk freighter.”

“ _Hey_ , show some respect to the _Twilight_. She saved your life.”

“Ha-ha—we’re lucky she even took off from Teth.” Ahsoka tilted her head at Anakin, watching him as he rummaged through the toolbox with a disproportionate amount of focus. “And stop avoiding the topic.”

Anakin gave her a quick but vaguely fond glance. “Not going to be easy to hide things from you, I guess.” He put down the hydrospanner he’d been fiddling with and sighed, a pensive look crossing his face. “It’s true not everything can be fixed like a ship or a droid,” he said slowly. “People and their problems—it’s not so simple. Sometimes it’s not enough, and—” He broke off, eyes shadowed, his gaze seemingly fixed far away.

The moment passed, and he seemed to come back to himself as he smiled down at her. “But I think this will help you center yourself when you need it,” he said, “At least, I hope it will—it’s not a Jedi teaching, but it’s what I do.”

Ahsoka smiled back, and her hands were steady as she bent back over their work—

—and her hands were shaking as she bent back over her work, disassembling and reassembling the vaporator in the blue glow of the Raadan evening. She’d finished the repairs an hour ago, but _kriff_ her hands were still shaking so she kept going, but it was still gnawing away at her, the horrifying nothingness that greeted her when she had reached out with her senses for him, for anyone, trying to follow the well-worn path like he taught her, following the twists and turns only to reach the edge and fall down into darkness.

She took a shuddering breath and tried to conjure him up in her mind, and she could almost hear him say _this will center you_ but then it was gone, like mist in the morning,

and she was alone.

Ahsoka finally set her tools down, fingers trembling as she stood up and walked out of the room blindly, wanting to be anywhere but here, wanting to run away from it all, and—

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *laughs weakly* how bout that new episode tho......


	3. phantoms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ahsoka's visions return her to moments familiar to her and to us, but things are not what they seem as the line between fantasy and reality blurs.

—and she was running in a dark forest, spindly branches stretching up into the cloudy sky. A grey mist hung heavily, pulling at her as she pushed on. A shiver of same-ness went down her spine—she had been here before.

A shadow flitted past the corner of her eye, and she whipped around, only to see more fog obscuring the path behind her. Her breath felt loud, suffocating, and Ahsoka strained her eyes in vain. Nothing.

Letting out a relieved breath, Ahsoka turned back around and suddenly white and orange filled her vision and someone was there bearing down upon her and their hands long long long spindly pale fingers were reaching out curling wrapping around her neck and squeezing and black spots were beginning to dot her vision and _kriff_ she couldn’t breathe, and then she was staring down the barrel of a blaster and all she could really think was _really?_

The woman’s face broke out into a wicked smile, her green eyes glowing maliciously out from the smear of her black facial markings as her white lips parted to say:

“She will die.”

Ahsoka woke with a gasp, eyes staring blindly, and she flailed for a moment until she felt her arm slam against something soft, and she heard a soft _oh!_

“Oh!” Ahsoka exclaimed, “I’m so sorry, I can’t believe I fell asleep out here, I don’t know what I was thinking—”

“It’s alright, Ahsoka,” the woman across from her said kindly, rubbing her reddened cheek, “You just caught me by surprise, that’s all.”

Ahsoka sat up, heart still racing from her dream. She stared at Padmé Amidala, still kneeling on the floor from when she bent over to shake Ahsoka awake. Her face was as sweet and collected as always, long brown hair pulled up in the latest of Naboo’s extravagant fashions. She was looking at Ahsoka with mild concern. For some reason, Ahsoka couldn’t put her finger on why she couldn’t look away from Padmé. There was something odd about all of this, and she couldn’t help but feel unease in the back of her mind.

The holo table in the corner caught Ahsoka’s eye, the last dejarik game she and Padmé had played still flickering with the occasional wobble of their ship as it hurtled through hyperspace. _That’s right,_ Ahsoka thought with relief, _of course! we’re heading to the peace conference, the one where I asked her if I could be extra security, and I really can’t mess this one up because I promised Master Skywalker I wouldn’t get up to any trouble while he was gone, and because—_

“Oh!” Ahsoka said again. Padmé was still looking at her in concern. Ahsoka leaned forward eagerly. “I had another one of my dreams—I mean, visions—and I know I’ve said this already but I really don’t think you go to this meeting. I know Aurra Sing is up to something.”

Still looking a little worried, Padmé shook her head earnestly, slowly standing back up. “I’m sorry Ahsoka. I understand your concern, but this talk is imperative for pushing forward any meaningful action toward peace. I know with my security and your help that—” Padmé broke off suddenly, looking slightly alarmed. “Is something wrong, Ahsoka?”

Ahsoka dimly knew that her mouth was hanging open, shock running through her veins. She gaped at Padmé as she fully straightened up, revealing a large swell under her voluminous dress. “Your stomach—”

Padmé looked down, startled, and let out a light laugh. “Ahsoka,” she said warmly, wrapping her small hands around her swollen belly softly, lovingly, “I’m pregnant.”

Ahsoka couldn’t breathe.

“You’re flattering me a bit, you know, noticing this late into my term.”

_This is wrong!_ A voice screamed in Ahsoka’s head. Her heartbeat began to ramp up again. “Then,” Ahsoka said haltingly, “The baby, the baby’s father, it must be—?”

For the first time in their conversation, something slipped in Padmé’s face. She recovered quickly, but her smile seemed a little more forced, a hint of fear curling around the corner of her lips. Padmé smoothed over the front of her robes, briskly replying, “Ah, well, there’s some Naboo cultural quirks—it’s considered unlucky for Nabooan mothers to share the name of the baby’s father prior to childbirth. I don’t consider myself very superstitious normally, but with the—extraordinary circumstances of the Clone War, I can’t help but allow myself this little weakness.”

Ahsoka’s thoughts felt sluggish, as if she were wading through a swamp. “Then—” Ahsoka stuttered, casting around wildly for something, _anything_ to say. She felt as if she’d been struck with an electrostaff. Think, Ahsoka!

_That’s right_ , she thought, _the visions. It’s all because of the visions_.

“All the more reason for you not to go!” Ahsoka replied heatedly, “If something happened to you, to your _baby_ , because I didn’t listen to my visions, I couldn’t forgive myself.”

Padmé was already shaking her head. “This is neither your decision nor your guilt to bear.”

Turning away, Padmé began to stride towards the cockpit.

Padmé. Aurra Sing. The peace conference.

Padmé. Aurra Sing. Padmé’s baby. _Anakin’s_ baby, regardless of how cleverly Padmé avoided her question.

Padmé. Aurra Sing. Anakin’s baby.

Ahsoka’s mind began to whir, turning the words over and over in her head, dream-like, as Padmé continued to walk away.

Padmé. The baby. Anakin.

_No._

_This wasn’t right,_ Ahsoka realized. Ahsoka looked down at herself, all gangly, awkward, fourteen-year-old limbs. She looked up again, Padmé gliding away, glowing warmly with newfound motherhood.

Padmé gliding away, eyes closed, white flowers sprinkled in her long dark hair, pale hands carefully folded above a swollen belly, cold and silent under the soft, purple Naboo sunset.

Nausea rose in Ahsoka’s throat.

She had to do something.

Anything.

Everything.

Ahsoka reached out, grasping, and—

—and she grabbed Kaeden’s hand, palms sweating, her blood singing with the familiar song of battle and war.

“Are you alright?” Ahsoka asked.

“Yeah,” Kaeden panted, “You’re amazing, you know. I could kiss you. Not now, I mean—my timing is terrible.”

Ahsoka blinked. “Oh,” she said, bemused, “Thanks.”

She looked down at the lightsaber she was holding. For a moment, she was fixated by the surreal weight of the lightsaber in her hand, warm with thrumming energy, something she never imagined she would feel again after that fateful day.

Kaeden gave her a look. “I’m serious,” she said, “You are amazing. What you’ve been able to do for my planet, my family, for me… it’s incredible.”

“I don’t know,” Ahsoka replied, “Everything that happened… it’s because they followed me here.”

“Maybe this would have happened, whether you came here or not,” Kaeden said, squeezing Ahsoka’s hand. “But I do know one thing,” she continued, “You showed us that we can fight the Empire. You gave us _hope_.”

Hope. She hadn’t dared to think of hope in a long time. Hope was saving planets and people in the Clone War. Hope was seeing the small form of Padmé Amidala speaking confidently to a hostile Senate. Hope was seeing her group of Jedi younglings brandish their new lightsabers for the first time. Hope was Rex as he sheepishly held out a helmet hastily painted white and orange. Hope was the gentle, reverent way Anakin held the box that carried her lightsabers and offered them to her. And then hope had vanished like smoke, but here it was again, spoken back into her life with Kaeden’s words. The leaves rustled in the breeze as Kaeden and Ahsoka stood together.

“Well,” Ahsoka said, “I guess I can keep working on the self-confidence.”

Kaeden laughed. “Come on. The way you looked with those white laser swords, and you’re talking about self-confidence?”

They looked at each other, and before Ahsoka knew it, a giggle bubbled out, and she felt lighter than she had since—since before, as if a haze had been briefly lifted from her mind.

Ahsoka felt a sudden burst of courage and recklessness. “You know,” Ahsoka said, “It's not terrible.”

“What? What isn't terrible?”

Ahsoka fumbled, suddenly feeling embarrassed in a way she hadn’t felt in a while, and for some reason all she could think of was that mission on Onderon, when to her teenaged horror, Anakin had come to her, looking concerned in a mortifyingly parental way, and asked, _Snips,_ _are you… losing focus?_

“You know,” she said, cheeks flushing darker, “The timing.”

Kaeden stared blankly at her. “Oh,” she said, “ _Oh_ ,” as her eyes got bigger and she suddenly seemed very interested in something just over Ahsoka’s shoulder. “I mean, I guess it could be not terrible—did you want it to be not-terrible timing?”

Dawn was just beginning to break, straining through the tree canopy. “I’m not very good at this,” Ahsoka began hesitantly.

Kaeden looked steadily at her, a small smile curving at the edge of her dark lips. “Okay. That’s okay.”

She slowly turned Kaeden’s hand and laced their fingers together. She took a breath. “The timing wasn't bad at all.”

They were close enough that Ahsoka could see a ring of a darker shade around Kaeden’s molten gold irises. “Alright then,” Kaeden whispered, “Good timing it is.”

Ahsoka leaned forward, and—

—and Maul was looming before her, the dark gloom bathing the Sundari throne room in a deep indigo.

“So,” he seethed, face twitching, “You entertain yourself with fantasies while Sidious draws us ever more into darkness. Didn’t your master teach you better?”

A crest of anger rose in Ahsoka. She thought of Anakin, patiently teaching her mechanics; staying with her long after sundown to drill exercises; the day when he inputted coordinates to Ilum on her lifeday, pretend-grumbling _if you’re going to stick with reverse grip, might as well go all in_ ; when he’d praise her in front of the Council; taking her out to diners as a treat—what did Maul know about Anakin, Maul who was angry and fearful and hateful—

“You know nothing about Anakin,” she told him, voice shaking, “Nothing.”

“Don’t I?” Maul mused, eyes glowing eerily in the gloom. “Surely you must have seen?”

Ahsoka hesitated. She knew Anakin struggled with his emotions, that he had his secrets, but didn’t they all? His empathy, his care, were his strengths, not his weaknesses—he may not have been a perfect Jedi, she could see that now after spending a year away, but he was a good person at the end of it all, and that was what was important, wasn’t it?

If she could face the crucial choices and come out the other end, then of course, _of course_ her master, her teacher, her brother would do the same.

Wouldn’t he?

Malice and a tinge of desperation danced in Maul’s expression. “The moment is near, Ahsoka Tano,” said Maul.

“What will you do?”

The world cracked, and shattered itself into pieces—

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be thinking about the phantom apprentice forever


	4. letting go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One final test for Ahsoka.

_“Let me take you away from your confusion, your anger, your sadness. Come with me, and you will never know pain, never know sadness. Close your eyes, and I will guide you.” — **“Katooni” to Yoda, The Clone Wars 6x12**_ **“Destiny”**

* * *

—and she almost fell over when the door she’d been leaning on slid open.

“Ahsoka,” Anakin greeted, “You’re late.”

“Sorry,” she said, “The Council meeting went a little over time.”

Anakin snorted. “When do they not?”

Ahsoka flashed him a wry smile as she shrugged off her cloak and tossed it at Anakin, ignoring his exasperated look as he caught it. “What did they want this time?” he continued.

“You know, the usual. Peace treaties, moderating between squabbling politicians, dealing with the fallout all over—I feel like the galaxy’s janitor at this point.”

“Sounds eventful.”

“It is,” she replied, “Although maybe not for you—there’s not _nearly_ enough explosions.”

“Careful, I'm supposed to be a model Jedi right now,” he warned, “Don’t want to ruin all the good P.R. the Council’s been running since the war ended.”

She rolled her eyes. “You know as well as I do that you’ve got a better P.R. defense than anything the Council can give you.”

Said P.R. defenses came sprinting into the hallway, and one of them barreled into her, shrieking, “ _Auntie ‘Soka_!”

“How are my favorite younglings doing!?” Ahsoka gasped dramatically, scooping Anakin’s twins into her arms. They squirmed, giggling as she planted quick kisses on their cheeks. “Have you been behaving since the last time I saw you?”

“ _No_ ,” interjected Anakin, “ _Someone_ ’s been terrorizing Threepio and overworking his circuits. Haven’t you, sweetheart?”

“No!” cried out the girl, at the same time that the boy said, “Yah!”

Ahsoka laughed. “Well, it’s to be expected—the wild one has always been—been—”

Confused, Ahsoka stuttered to a halt. The girl’s name was at the tip of her tongue, but something forced it back, catching in her throat. For a moment, the world slowed. Ahsoka stared down at the girl—Anakin’s daughter—tracing the girl’s pouted expression with the brooding brow line that was so much like her father’s.

Ahsoka had the strangest sense that she had seen the girl before, that she had looked upon that same brow, had shaken away a passing thought she considered errant and naive and traitorously, unrealistically hopeful as Bail Organa hurriedly changed the subject—

_(Anakin’s baby._

_Twin cries_. _“Obi-Wan,” murmured Padmé, her beseeching face covered with a ghostly sheen of sweat.)_

 _Bail Organa?_ That was silly—of course she’d seen Anakin’s children just a few months ago during the last time she was planet-side, and she saw them over holocalls even more often than that. Yes, that had to be it.

“Are you alright?” A low voice asked. Ahsoka jumped, shaken out of her stupor. Anakin’s hand was warm on her shoulder as he looked at her, concerned. The children were gone—in her daze, they had wriggled out her arms and ran elsewhere.

She forced a smile. “I’m fine. Just a bit tired, that’s all.”

Anakin eyed her, clearly unconvinced. “You don’t have to do so much. You know that, don’t you?” he said, “You walked away after all, and the war’s over—it’s your right to say no.”

“I know,” she replied, “But there’s a lot of people who need help out there.” Ahsoka then poked him in the side, saying, “And besides, it’s your fault—who’s the one who always told me to do the right thing no matter what?”

“I suppose,” Anakin said doubtfully, “But you know how much I still worry.”

“You don't need to, I'm not your padawan anymore,” Ahsoka sing-songed as she swept past him towards the dining room.

“I’m pretty sure there’s a Code clause out that says you still are.”

“If there is, then Obi-Wan definitely wrote it about you first.”

“Very _funny_ , Ahsoka. Speaking of Obi-Wan, where is he? He said he’d try to make it tonight.”

“Still tied up with Council duties, he’s swamped more than ever but I think he secretly enjoys it. He said he’ll stop by later.” Ahsoka continued, “Also, who are you to talk about worry? I know you’re itching to get back to front-line work too.”

Laughing at Anakin’s mock-outrage, Ahsoka turned, beaming, to greet Padmé. The older woman pulled Ahsoka into a warm embrace, before drawing back and examining her face. “Look at you, you look exhausted! Sit down, sit down—I’m sure you’ve got quite some stories to tell.”

Padmé, as always, looked radiant. She was still dressed in her Senate garb, hair pulled up and sprinkled with gold flowers. Ahsoka glanced surreptitiously down at her dusty, just-got-back-from-cleaning-up-the-galaxy clothes. Oh, to have chipped black nail polish while dining with a fashion icon, lamented Ahsoka.

They settled into dinner, and it just felt—nice. Ahsoka couldn’t remember the last time she had been able to sit down like this and just _be_. A niggling feeling told her it had really only been a few months since the last time—or was it years?

The feeling, however, was slowly forgotten during dinner as Ahsoka sank into conversation with all of them, and it completely dropped from her mind when she abruptly realized she had been lulled into a false sense of security by Padmé, who always seemed to get everything out of Ahsoka if she put her mind to it, and was so very curious about certain.... embarrassment-inducing happenings in Ahsoka’s life. (Anakin was too, but he’d never admit it—he preferred to let Padmé work the magic and profit off of it, the absolute laserbrain.)

“So. How’s Kaeden doing?” Padmé asked. _Uh oh._

Ahsoka felt her cheeks grow warm. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the beginnings of a smirk on Anakin’s face. “She’s fine, I guess,” Ahsoka mumbled.

Padmé hummed neutrally. “Is she still working as a liaison for the Outer Rim farming communities?”

“Yeah, she’s pretty tied up out there most of the time. Although she told me she’ll be coming to Coruscant in a few months for a conference.”

“Oh yes, the Annual Outer Rim Agricultural Research Conference. I’ve always found it fascinating to see the array of farming techniques they’ve adapted for different planetary climes. Will you be on Coruscant too then?”

“Don’t know,” Ahsoka said, pushing her food around with her fork. “Depends.”

“Well, as Senator I have room for a plus one on my invitation—I’m sure your duties can and _will_ spare you for a week, and it’ll be good to relax and have fun for a bit. You've been working yourself ragged, and you deserve a treat—it's on me. And you can finally introduce us to Kaeden—we’ve been wanting to meet your, er, friend for so long, haven’t we, Ani? Surely you don’t have an objection to that?” Padmé beamed at Ahsoka innocently.

Anakin snorted. “Right, her _friend_ ,” he muttered.

Under the table, Ahsoka kicked Anakin, hard.

“Ow! Mind your feelings, little one.”

“Will you stop it?” Ahsoka growled, “Of all the people I know, you’re definitely meeting Kaeden last.”

He was _still_ smirking. Throwing him a dirty look, Ahsoka turned to his children, who were babbling away at each other.

“Younglings, do you see what Auntie ‘Soka has to put up with? That’s why you have to keep doing what I told you last time,” Ahsoka told them seriously. “So repeat after me: Auntie ‘Soka is the best. Your father is a nerfherder.”

“' _Do what you told them last time’_? Ahsoka, are you the reason why they’ve been—"

“‘Soka best—”

“Papa nuffa!” shrieked the girl happily, Force-flinging several of her veggies, narrowly missing Anakin and causing several pieces to smack into her brother’s face. The boy’s lip wobbled precariously.

“ _Now_ look what you did, Ahsoka.”

Ahsoka only laughed, feeling lighter and happier than she ever had in her life.

\--

After they cleaned up, Ahsoka lingered, drawing close to the window. It was sunset now—the sun blazed over the skyline as lines of speeders moved lazily across the sky. She could see the Jedi Temple from here, the sun casting the temple blood red. Inhaling deeply, Ahsoka closed her eyes, feeling the heat on her face, and dipped briefly into a meditative state. She could sense the presences of Padmé and the twins in the next room over, bright and calm. The Force itself felt clear and pure, thrumming to a steady, reassuring rhythm. She let out her breath slowly and opened her eyes as another brighter presence made itself known behind her.

“Something wrong?” Anakin asked.

“Nothing wrong. Why do you ask?”

As she turned around, Anakin said, “You looked… lost somewhere.”

Lost? Was she lost? “I was just thinking. It’s strange to say, but I just… I don’t think I’ve been this happy for a long time.”

Anakin laughed. “Anything in particular that happened?”

_(Ahsoka—I don’t believe it. How are you?)_

“No, I don’t think so,” she replied. A half-remembered thought struck her. “I had a dream though recently. I was running.”

_(We’ll have to catch up another time.)_

Anakin looked at her quizzically. “Running? What were you running from?”

_(It’s a long story, and it’s not really relevant right now.)_

Frowning, Ahsoka tried to remember. “I don’t know. Just that I was—so afraid, and when I felt I couldn’t run another step, I just kept going on and on, but at the same time I knew whatever was behind me would catch me in the end anyways.”

_(Anakin! Good luck.)_

Anakin drew closer to her, brow knitted in concern. “Ahsoka,” he said, “The war is over. We defeated the Sith, and the galaxy is safe again. There’s no need to be afraid anymore.”

_(Good luck.)_

“I know, but it felt so _real_ , and I just—” Ahsoka struggled to find her words. She didn't know how to describe the feeling—everything seemed so peaceful, so right, and she was loathe to do or say anything to shatter it. Wasn't this enough? The Force finally in balance, the galaxy strife-free, and things aligned in the way they should be—or how she wanted. Yet something still seemed undeniably fragile and tenuous. She hesitated, choosing her next words carefully.

"Do you ever wonder if it's possible for it to be over? Truly?"

_(Good luck.)_

"Ahsoka. Sidious is _dead_. I saw him die myself."

"I know, I know," she said, "But how can we be sure? What if—what if it is like my dreams, and there's no end to it, to the running? What if we'll never be free of it?"

He was silent for a long moment. Finally, Anakin said, “You know as well as I do that I’m not the best one to answer that question—you know how I’ve struggled. But—but I think you have to have faith. Faith in what will come. You can’t let the past—whatever it may be—ruin your future.”

Casting her eyes down, Ahsoka let a ghost of a chuckle. “Old sins cast long shadows, huh?”

Anakin cracked a nostalgic smile at that. “One of my first lessons to you.”

“I seem to remember it was an impatiently given lesson, and not one you agreed with then.”

“Cut me some slack, I was new to the whole master-apprentice thing too.” Resting his hands on her shoulders, Anakin squeezed briefly. “Whatever it is, we’ll work through it together,” he said bracingly, seriously. “Trust me.”

_(Tell Anakin…)_

Ahsoka smiled tentatively. Even now, talking to Anakin helped ease her mind. His clear blue eyes were concerned but reassuring. The year or so since the Clone War ended had treated Anakin kindly, despite how he would complain to her that the twins had wreaked havoc on his sleep schedule. His face was more relaxed, the worry wrinkles he had begun to develop towards the end of the war having given way to laugh crinkles at the edges of his eyes. His Force signature had never been calmer and placid. Even the clothes he wore were softer, lighter. Ahsoka felt an urge to etch his features, this moment, into her memory, as if she would never see him again. Leaning forward, she wrapped him in a tight, grateful hug ( _oof,_ said Anakin), breathing in his presence.

They stayed like that for a singular, frozen moment.

The quiet was shattered by an earthshaking explosion.

Whipping around, Ahsoka gasped as she looked out the window. The Jedi Temple was afire. Sirens blared.

No, not again.

_Again?_

A sharp, blood-curdling cry was uttered from the next room over, and she spun around to see Anakin, frozen with horror.

( _I won’t lose you Padmé. Not like I lost my mother,_ whispered a familiar-unfamiliar voice.)

Ahsoka blinked, shaking her head. For a moment her vision had blurred and doubled, the Anakin that stood before her flickering into a sharper, twisted image. The world refocused again, only for her to see Anakin turn on his heel and sprint out the room in the direction of Padmé’s chilling cries. Adrenaline pumping through her veins, Ahsoka tried to scramble after him, her thoughts deafened by the Force, screaming at her to _stop, stop him_ —

_(do as I say, not as I do—)_

“Anakin, wait!”

And suddenly the apartment was ghostly quiet except for the sound of her own breathing, and the walls were darkened by the twilight hour. A stream of black smoke choked the horizon, trailing lazily from the Jedi Temple.

“My _dear_ child.”

Ahsoka spun around, heart hammering, and for a moment all she could do was stare at a someone she hadn’t seen in over a year since the Clone Wars ended ( _no_ , a knowing voice whispered in her ear, _it’s been closer to twenty_ ). A grandfatherly old man, clad in a stately dress, stood before her, the wrinkles in his face crinkling charmingly as he smiled kindly at her.

“ _You_ ,” Ahsoka spat. “What have you done with them?”

Chancellor Palpatine heaved a heavy sigh, as if Ahsoka’s reaction was a great source of lament and burden to him. “I know you must see me as the villain, but you have been mistaken and misled all these years, my child.”

“Mistaken? I know you were the one who engineered all of it—the clones’ chips, the fall of the Jedi, the Empire—”

“All that?” Palpatine said mildly. He waved his hand dismissively. “Perhaps that was true elsewhere in another wretched universe, but we are in the here and now, my dear. Didn’t you see how wonderful the future could be? The Jedi, changing their old ways and becoming the peacekeepers and protectors they were always meant to be, while the Republic roots out the corruption that ate away at their core for decades. Your loved ones, happy and content—even your own beloved Master, raising his children with his wife, free of the secrets that plagued him.”

Ahsoka opened her mouth to retort, but before she could, he continued pityingly. “Listen,” Palpatine whispered. “Open your senses. Can’t you feel how happy they all are? How you’ve helped and saved them? How you can still save them?”

The angry words died in her throat, forgotten. Spellbound, against her will, she couldn’t help but obey him. The room had grown misty around them, brightening with every word he’d spoken.

If she strained her senses, she could almost hear Anakin again, his voice lighter and happier than she had ever heard before as he greeted Padmé, his twins. She could feel the twins’ excitement at greeting her, the softness of Padmé’s embrace, the warmth of Anakin’s carefree smile. The firm, reassuring clasp of Rex’s hand around her own, the voices of all the brothers as they looked to their futures. All her friends and mentors, Jedi or otherwise, traveling and growing in a peaceful galaxy. Barriss, finally able to rest and heal in peace. The curve of Kaeden’s face, flickering in the holocall. And then for a brief moment, she thought she could even sense Obi-Wan, finally free of the solemn burden and sadness that he always seemed to carry with him.

Her eyes stung with tears.

“And you,” Palpatine soothed—his eyes had focused on Ahsoka with a knowing glimmer. “The Clone Wars was so hard on one as young as yourself—called on to be a soldier, a commander at such a tender age, and to be responsible for the lives of so many men. You left the Jedi to forge a path of your own choosing—and yet war followed you against your will.”

“Haven’t you endured enough, my child?”

Ahsoka felt paralyzed, pinned like a butterfly. The Chancellor’s voice wove a tangled web around her, and she felt if she reached out, the world would be at her grasp.

“Very good,” he whispered, “Reach out, and all that you have desired, will be yours.”

Trance-like, she began to raise her hand. As she lifted her eyes to meet the Chancellor’s, something in his made her pause, a familiar prickle in the back of her neck, and a memory rose unbidden to her mind.

_“Ah, Anakin. It is good to see you.”_

_“Your Excellency.”_

_A pause, as the affable old man shifted his gaze to look at her. She smiled shyly, peering out from behind her Master._

_“Excuse us, child.”_

_The room was plunged into darkness as the doors slid shut—_

_—and Maul was holding his hand out, beseeching. “Together, you and I can.”_

_and then she saw someone, head bowed as they turned away from the dying sun, and the same person, huddled and hunched, falling to their knees—_

_Join me, or die._

_Never._

_—I will do whatever you ask._

_Before it’s too late—_

_I’ll tell him myself_

_Too late for what—_

_When I see him_

_—Already **has** _

_Good luck._

_When this is all over—_

_—when I needed you_

_BURN_

_I would never let anyone hurt you—_

_You were my brother_

_—balance to the Force?_

_I need him!_ _  
_

_Trust me._

_._

**_Your vision is flawed._ **

**_._ **

The Chancellor was looking at her, waiting. His face still shone with his kindly earnestness—but no, she realized with dawning horror. It was the same thing she had glimpsed for just a moment all those years ago outside the Chancellor’s office, the feeling she hadn’t been able to put her finger on until now—something cold and dead, calculating and _hungry_ glinted in his eye, something that made her stomach turn and rooted her feet to the ground. And yet even as she looked, even as she sensed the edges of his figure begin to shiver and warp into something filled with wrongness, somehow all she could still see and hear was his pleading face and honeyed words.

She thought she knew what a Sith looked like. The unbridled passion of Maul, vengeance and raw ambition alight in his voice as he whispered to her in the Sundari throne room and offered her a place at his side. The twisted, shadowed presence of the Emperor casting magicks as he let out a croaking laugh. The ruined mask of Vader as his golden eye seared into her with pain and anger and overwhelming hatred. But this—this was—

_Oh, Anakin._

“No!” Ahsoka gasped loudly.

Palpatine blinked once. Twice. “No?” he said, dangerously quiet. “ _Careful, child.”_

“I’m not a child,” Ahsoka whispered, trembling, “And you heard me.”

His expression didn’t change, but something ugly began to emerge from the wrinkles in his face. Ahsoka was reminded, forcibly, of Latrans—the memory of her dark presence masked by a charming face as she tried to steal Ahsoka away. “You would throw away that future? You would choose to live in your broken, hopeless universe?”

Feeling rushed back into her limbs, white-hot, and Ahsoka clenched her fists, a boiling flush rising in her chest. The room trembled under the weight of her fury, and the window cracked behind her. “Get out.”

“You are making a mistake, _Jedi_ ,” Palpatine growled, “You are weak like your Master, like your dead Order, clinging to your principles in the face of certain failure.”

“I am no Jedi,” she said, “And your lies have no power over me, Sidious.”

And like she had been taught all those years ago, she stretched out her senses, following the lines, the corrupted paths of the Force, that crisscrossed invisibly around her like the wires in a broken freighter ship long ago, until she reached the end and drove straight at the dark, twisted nexus from which the lines radiated.

The false brightness of the room vanished, wiped away, and in the Chancellor’s place stood the wraith of the Emperor, his inhuman face writhing with overwhelming wrath. Ahsoka stumbled back in horror, pressing up against the window, as everything inside her screamed _run, run away_.

And just as quickly, his wrath morphed into mirth, his dark shoulders shaking with laughter, echoing across the room. “No power? How foolish of you. Knowledge is power,” croaked the Emperor, the strength of a thousand voices reverberating through him, “And you are still so _naïve_.”

“You wanted the truth, Ahsoka Tano, and I will make you _despair_.”

He raised his gnarled hands, and before she could react, he _pushed_ , and she was flying out the window, shards fluttering, _shattering,_ around her, as she was falling,

falling,

falling

into the darkness.

.

.

.

And darkness met her eyes as she came to, before her vision cleared and she was lying down, disoriented, a tall and hauntingly familiar corridor before her.

The acrid taste of smoke was in the air, and the sky was dark. The world felt a-kilter. She got up slowly as she felt a sinking pit in her stomach.

 _I don’t want to be here_ , she thought.

Stumbling slightly, Ahsoka made her way down the hallway. The high ceilings echoed eerily with her footsteps, and her legs seemed to have a life of their own, following a path through the maze of corridors by memory. Here was where her room was. There was where the hallway leading to her and Anakin’s favorite training room. Here was the alcove where Anakin told her she couldn’t come on the Citadel mission. There was where she comforted Barriss after the bombing. Instead of bringing comfort, all Ahsoka could feel as she passed by her childhood haunts was a growing sense of dread. The halls of her old home were empty, deserted.

Ahsoka broke into a run.

Here was where she liked to run about as a youngling, where all the younglings played, stretching back a thousand generations.

And someone was standing there.

As she rounded the last corner, she almost ran into Anakin. She skidded to a halt. He stood stock-still, facing down the hallway, away from her, his frame rigid and stiff. His lightsaber, ignited, trembled slightly in his hand.

“Anakin, what—”

Her eyes fell on what had stopped Anakin in his tracks, and she gasped.

The hallway was strewn with small, lifeless bodies. Some were huddled together, as if they had reached out for comfort as their murderer cut them down. Outside, the temple burned. There was no blood, yet a crimson haze bathed the room with it. Their wounds were cauterized, by something like—a lightsaber.

Bile rose in her throat. “Who could have done this?” she whispered in horror.

The only answer was the sound of Anakin’s rapid, faint breath. His hand shook, gripping his saber even tighter than before, the blue blade humming quietly, eerily. His silhouette was a deep shadow, outlined in scarlet.

“Anakin?” Ahsoka reached out, both with her hand and her senses.

He finally turned.

The glow of the flames cast a smear of angry red on Anakin. His face was blank with horror, yet not. He felt frayed, a cloth of nothingness barely suppressing an anguished turmoil of emotion, held in the bags under his eyes and the curved downturn of his mouth. His eyes were wide, staring unseeing, at first, before slowly filling with a terrible kind of resolve as they wandered their attention to Ahsoka.

His expression twisted with some indecipherable emotion.

“Anakin,” she said once again, “ _What is this?_ ”

“Ahsoka, I had to,” he said in an odd, stilting tone, yet there was an undercurrent of panic beneath his voice. “I had to.”

“Had to? Anakin, what did you _do_?”

“How else could I have saved them?” The tiny note of panic had changed into agony, into anguish, and as if drawn to his pain like a moth to light, a blaze of fire erupted around him, wreathing him in flames as Anakin began to struggle towards her, burning like a dying star in its final throes of life, burning as brightly and harshly as his yellow eye on Malachor.

And in one blinding, awful flash of realization, Ahsoka finally, finally knew. All the different mirages of Anakin, all of her visions, seemingly disparate and illogical, coalesced into one horrible, freeing truth. A truth that she had denied all these years.

Anakin loomed before her, hands grasping at her shoulders, and she, too, was burning, scalded and melting from the inferno.

“You weren’t there when I needed you! You failed me!”

“No!” she gasped, her eyes stinging, not just because of the smoke. She scrabbled at him, trying to push him off, to run away, an all-encompassing guilt clawing away at her.

“ _Why did you leave, Ahsoka?”_

Time slowed.

She thought of the way her family had faded away by her own choice. She thought of Anakin, Padmé, the way they had mentored her, cared about her, the slimy feeling of utter fear as Padmé willingly walked to her fate.

The way her blood sang as Kaeden’s lips pressed against hers, how she thought _oh, so this is what it’s like_ and for a moment she knew she would move the orbits of stars and cross light years for it.

She thought of the gnawing feeling of unworthiness, of regret, of _what if I said something differently_ , of that beautiful, haunting future that seemed so close yet so immeasurably impossible—

She reached, and pulled out the truth she had been too afraid to face for all these days, weeks, months, and years.

“No, Anakin,” she whispered.

“Why did _you_ leave us?”

The flames slid off her like water.

Finger by finger, she uncurled her grip, and let go. The temple began to fall away, becoming a myriad of color and formless shapes, and the flickering flames blurred until they seemed like the waving grasses of her homeworld, autumnal and fading. Anakin’s form, too, seemed to shiver and shake, his dark cloak melting to rejoin the dying world around them.

Before everything faded away with the warm wind, Ahsoka braved one last, single glance at Anakin.

His face was wet with tears.

She turned away, and looked forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you guys enjoyed this—this was the chapter that drove me to start this fic over half a year ago, and i was quite pleased and excited that many of the themes and character beats i initially wanted to explore were reflected in the siege of mandalore arc as well, which allowed me to incorporate it into here. love it when canon vibes with me!!
> 
> 2 fun facts:
> 
> -the "old sins cast long shadows" conversation is a callback to their conversation on Tatooine in the TCW movie  
> -the "dying star" imagery is inspired by Stover's ROTS novelization
> 
> one more chapter/epilogue after this, i think.


	5. rebirth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ahsoka speaks to someone she didn't expect, and discovers balance.

The next time Ahsoka opened her eyes, she knew the world had settled around her.

Well, not quite.

She was standing in a strangely familiar black void, pools of light rippling out from beneath her boots. In the distance, a hooded figure sat hunched over an unseen campfire.

Disbelief flooded her.

“Hello there.”

“Is it really you?”

“Have I really changed that much?”

“Your hair’s a lot whiter.”

“So it is. And you’ve grown quite the set of montrals.”

“I can't believe it—you survived the purge. You’ve been alive this whole time.”

“Yes. I’m glad to see you as well—I receive little news here. I sense you’ve been on quite the journey to get here.”

“I… saw many things. Some things that I understand now, some that I still don’t.”

“Such as?”

“I saw his children, I think. The Force clouded my vision though—I couldn’t hear their names, and even now I can barely picture their faces. But one was a girl, I’m sure of it. I could feel her, our connection—still can. Do you know anything about this?”

“The Force will reveal the truth when it is ready. Some things are better off as secrets.”

“I know you know something. Whatever it is, I’ll find a way—I’m done with secrets.”

“You always did have his stubbornness.”

“It’s your stubbornness too.”

A pause. More softly now—

“You were there, weren’t you? When he burned.”

A sharp inhale.

“Yes. I was there when he died.”

“He’s not dead.”

“You didn’t see, you didn’t see how he slaughtered them all, how he was at the end—"

“I did. My visions—I _did_.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I saw it all, but I also saw _him_ when we fought. He _spoke_ to me.”

“One moment out of how many years?”

“I know that. But he has a _choice_. We all do.”

“You think he will make the right choice one day? Even after everything?”

“I don’t know.”

“We cannot afford such optimism. The chances of it—surely you understand—"

“I’ve been fighting since I was fourteen. I know how to be realistic.”

“I—yes. Yes. Still, that is not something that I—I—I have tortured myself—dwelled upon this for—” He broke off, agitated. He struggled for a moment, before finally: “That is not a hope you should chain yourself to.”

“I’m not. And I’m not asking you to, either—it’s not a burden for one person, and we’ve both carried enough over these years.”

A sigh.

“It’s—it’s not optimism—it’s _faith_. My visions… they were filled with ghosts. But I had faith in the present, in the future, in _myself_. So I believe. I believe in the Force. There is always hope. Somehow, some way.”

He was quiet for a moment. His next words were contemplative, slow.

“On that, I agree. There will be a new hope.”

* * *

“Obi-Wan.”

“Yes, Ahsoka?”

“I’m—I’m sorry for what I said to you. Before you left for Coruscant.”

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry too, little one. For everything.”

A long silence.

“So what now? Where do I go from here?”

“You are far too wise to take the advice of an old hermit like me, Ahsoka. Your instincts have never led you astray—you already know your path.”

“Thank you, Master.”

* * *

When Ahsoka surfaced from the water with a gasp, all she could see was light. Droplets clung to her skin, then fell like the spring rains of her homeworld.

A broken, hopeless universe. That was what the phantom of Palpatine had said in her vision. But he was wrong.

She emerged from the temple, free and whole, into the wastelands of Malachor.

A haunting cry rang out across the expanse, and she lifted her eyes to see the dark shape of Morai wheeling above her. Briefly, she sensed a familiarity, a connection, as if someone else had stood alone like this before, in a nameless place far away, with the shadow of a convor passing over, watchful yet faithful. Yet as quickly as it had come, the moment faded.

Ahsoka smiled, and she lifted her arm as the convor fluttered down.

“Come,” she said to Morai, “It’s time to go.”

Unafraid, she stepped forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Belief in the Force itself is part of what drives it. Not everybody in the Star Wars universe believes in it, which is interesting, because its actions and abilities are on display quite often so you think: “Why doesn’t everybody believe in it?” [..] Because it takes discipline and training and crafting and commitment and faith to believe in this thing. That it gives you power, that it flows through you, it’s in all of you, you all have it to some degree."
> 
> "If you take nothing else away from Star Wars you should make no decision out of fear. When the Emperor stands before you and has destroyed your father and ruined your life and you’re powerless and he made you hate your father almost, and you throw him down. You must remember, at that critical point, to say “I’m going to throw my weapon away because I love the person next to me, I love my father, I love my mother, and nothing you do can destroy that. Nothing.” And you stand on your commitment, and then that inspires Anakin to help, that is what inspires the love, which is something evil does not understand. That’s the core of Star Wars and that is the power that you can’t possibly imagine if you’re evil."  
> —Dave Filoni
> 
> Just wanted to share some of Dave's Big Brain Thoughts because I had this last chap in my drafts for a while and was really struggling with whether or not I liked this epilogue, and then listening to his speech on the Force is what made me finally hit the "post" button lmao.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who followed along on my first multi chap—your comments and kudos legit gave me the strength to keep going with this hahaaha. I'm just glad other people enjoyed my self-indulgent desire to trace Ahsoka's journey from "I won't leave you" to "I can't save my master", and then going a step or two beyond that (like trying to parse out the meaning behind Morai in victory and death!!! would love to hear people's thoughts bc i Think about it a lot).


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